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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27296365">The Hardest Thing To Take</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/castiel_ambrose/pseuds/castiel_ambrose'>castiel_ambrose</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>French Fryes 1980's Soundtrack 'Verse [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Assassin's Creed - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, Depression, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Gaslighting, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Physical Abuse, Protective Siblings, Sibling Love, Smoking, a hint of, drumroll but its the 80s, it's never named but jacob does suffer from it, like seriously if you like maxwell roth he is not nice in this, not between arno and jacob, not nice maxwell roth, or a form of it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:40:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,044</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27296365</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/castiel_ambrose/pseuds/castiel_ambrose</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The shower gave Jacob more time to think, to ruminate over everything that had taken place in the past twenty-four hours. It came down to five things in his mind.<br/>One: Roth cheated.<br/>Two: Jacob went to dinner with some random man.<br/>Three: He had fucked that random man in revenge against his (boyfriend? ex? what was he at this point?) and proceeded to stay over.<br/>Four: The random man had sent him home.<br/>Five: He wanted to find him and go back.<br/>-----<br/>We're introduced to Roth, and Arno comes back into the picture.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Arno Dorian/Jacob Frye, Jacob Frye/Maxwell Roth, Minor or Background Relationship(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>French Fryes 1980's Soundtrack 'Verse [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937935</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Hardest Thing To Take</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The car ride home was quicker than he thought it would be. The butt of his second light was burning his knuckles as he thanked the driver and spilled out onto the curb in front of his dingy building. It wasn’t that tall, more wide and squat, and managed to fit in with the rest of the drab block despite its odd look. A curry shop waited next door, and a slight pang of hunger went through Jacob’s stomach when he remembered he hadn’t eaten anything back at the house before he left.</p><p>He tossed the nub of the smoke down, crushed it with the heel of his boot, and hurried up to his flat, ignoring his doorman. Freddie was a good sort, if a fair share of a dolt and the last thing he needed was to be bothered at the moment with some asinine conversation about the lady in 4E and her fucking cat escaping again. He bounded up the steps and unlocked the door to his flat, quickly entering and deadbolting it. He put his back against it and took the habitual stock of his room to make sure things were in place, and nothing was gone or damaged. The tartan chair still had a stain on its left arm. He still had Billy Idol on his turntable. If he turned on the television, it still made a weird sound of protest at the action. The world hadn’t fallen apart. Not yet.</p><hr/><p>The shower gave Jacob more time to think, to ruminate over everything that had taken place in the past twenty-four hours. It came down to five things in his mind.</p><p>One: Roth cheated.</p><p>Two: Jacob went to dinner with some random man.</p><p>Three: He had fucked that random man in revenge against his (boyfriend? ex? what was he at this point?) and proceeded to stay over.</p><p>Four: The random man had sent him home.</p><p>Five: He wanted to find him and go back.</p><p>No. Scratch the last one. He didn’t want to go back. This… was just some sort of weakness. That was all it had been. Something leftover from last night. There hadn’t been any sense back then, either. </p><p>Sure, it had seemed like a great idea at the time. It was a way to get back at Roth. And Arno hadn’t been all that bad looking. He had paid for the meal, the cab ride to their house. Been nice enough to offer to send him home, even. He was willing. So fucking willing and eager… And that was what terrified him.</p><p>He quickly turned off the shower before his thoughts could go any further and cause the taste of bile to form in his throat. He allowed the thoughts to escape through the vents with the rest of the steam and attempted not to shiver.</p><hr/><p>He made it through two days of uneasy silence, going from the couch to the television to his music to his bed in a seemingly never-ending manner. Things were never this quiet in his life, hadn’t been since he moved to London. The only slight bit of solace and normally in his life was when Evie called late at night on the second day. It gave him a sense of relief to hear his sister’s voice, even if it nagged at him. All it did was mean she cared.</p><p>“So?”</p><p>“Hmm?” Jacob leaned off of the fridge, readjusting the fridge and watching some crumbs from his tuna sub fall to the ground. He made a mental note to clean them up later as she gave a small sigh. </p><p>“Did you hear a word I said, Jacob?” At no answer, she continued. “I was talking about Henry possibly moving the curio shop to a larger street, out of Whitechapel. I’m a little worried, but… things are getting dangerous out here. I don’t want to leave London, believe me, but perhaps we need to move the shop somewhere a little more upscale. Or even sell it.”</p><p>“Hmm.” It was non-committal around another bite of the sandwich. “And go back to Crawley? Sounds lovely.”</p><p>“I’m sure you’d just love the little visits. I think we could shake the city back out of you if need be.”</p><p>“I’m sure you could.”</p><p>Things went quiet again for a while before she spoke again. </p><p>“Jacob.”</p><p>“Ah, bollocks. What’s that tone for?” He asked, mentally preparing himself. He could just picture her beginning to pace around her living room, the coral-colored landline wrapping around and falling from her fingers.</p><p>“What’s wrong, Jacob?”</p><p>“Who says something’s wrong? Maybe I’m just really fucking happy; you don’t know.”</p><p>“I can tell when you’re feeling off. And I need to hear how you’re handling things now. You can’t just go completely silent on me anymore, not after last time-”</p><p>“I’m just tired-”</p><p>“What the fuck did Roth do?” Evie quickly cut him off, and he was surprised to hear the anger in her voice. Apparently, she must have been tired already of beating around the bush about his issues. Her rage wasn’t something she let out very often, and her sense of care and duty towards those she cared for and loved was never very soft; but it was quick and awe-inspiring, and Lord help those she was let loose against.</p><p>“Roth didn’t- It wasn’t him.”</p><p>“I find that a little difficult to believe. Jacob, damn it-” A breath, then, calmer, “I swore before that I would stay out of it if you swore that things had changed this time. That you were safe.”</p><p>“And I am, Evie, I promise. I’m back home, I’ve- I’ve got food, water, everything.”</p><p>“And where’s Roth? Is he there with you?”</p><p>Jacob hesitated for just a second. </p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Do you know where he is?”</p><p>“We got separated from each other a few days back at a club. He found some-” He swallowed and hoped it wasn’t audible. “Some buddies from his Uni days. Said I’d head home without him. He’s been busy at work. Why the questions?”</p><p>“It’s called concern. And if you won’t show it for yourself, then I will.”</p><p>“Evie…”</p><p>“It’s an older sister thing.”</p><p>Jacob couldn’t help a small smile at that, glad that the sadness was hidden from her sharp gaze through the plastic and wires of the phone.</p><p>“You’re not that much older.”</p><p>“It still counts.”</p><p>“Guess it does. But I promise, Evie. Really. I’m gonna be fine.”</p><p>It was silent again for a while before she sighed, a silent understanding if not an agreement to not go further.</p><p>“Fine. But call me if you need anything. Okay? Promise?”</p><p>“I promise. Really.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>They talked for a while longer before Evie had to leave once Henry came home, and Jacob asked her to say hello for him before she hung up. It was back to the eerie silence of the apartment, and Jacob stood in it for a moment before binning the heel of his sandwich, letting the phone drop to hang by its cord, and leaving to get a broom for the crumbs. <b>Fucking meddling sisters</b>.</p><hr/><p>The pounding of the door early next morning meant Jacob had to wake up, which he really didn’t want. It was still early, the sun streaming through his bedroom windows and casting uneasy shadows on everything. Perhaps that was the reason for the way his stomach filled with dread and a sinking feeling like he had swallowed a smooth stone with some river water. He didn’t bother with his hair or anything as he randomly grabbed a KISS shirt and boxers and threw them on -- if his visitor had the balls to visit this early in the morning, they could very well fucking deal with the outline of his own -- as he unlocked his apartment door and peeked out into the hallway.</p><p>“Hello-”</p><p>“Jacob. Darling.”</p><p>The stone officially sunk to a deeper level, and Jacob felt his mouth go dry as he took in Roth. The little, pointy face that always looked as though it had swallowed a lemon. The way his lips seemed to be curled into the making of a smile, but his beady eyes always betrayed the way he felt. He had this way of looking at you as though you were a piece of meat, the way he could dissect the juiciest piece of you to take a bite out of. And Jacob realized that was what was happening now, despite how little he could do about it. Suddenly Jacob hated his haste in dressing.</p><p>“Max.”</p><p>“Aren’t you going to let me in?”</p><p><em> No, </em> Jacob wanted to shout, wanted to scream down at Freddie, and tell the useless old git to call the cops. But not much he could do no matter what. So he swallowed down a lot of things -- pride, esteem, fear -- and moved to the side and opened the door to let Roth in.</p><p>“You disappeared after the club,” Roth noted, sliding his custom leather dress shoes off on the mat. He made no comment on Jacob’s state of dress, but the Brit felt as though he had been noted anyway.</p><p>“I just wasn’t… feeling all that well. Drank a bit too much of that cheap shit and it didn’t sit well with me.”</p><p>“You still don’t have good taste. I know that.” Roth almost sounded disappointed, before continuing. “But you were in such <b>distress</b>, Jacob! I just felt awful about how you must have felt. I know you were a bit weak that night, and perhaps I was a bit as well.” He came over and squeezed Jacob’s biceps, voice cloyingly sweet as he spoke to the younger man. “But you can’t just run off like that and worry me.”</p><p>“I was here for three whole days, and you didn’t even notice.” Jacob dared to mumble, already tensed in Roth’s grip. There was a twitch in the edge of Roth’s upper lip, covered by the edge of his mustache, and he leaned in just a bit more for Jacob to get a whiff of his stale and watered-down rose scent. His left hand slid down Jacob’s arm slowly and almost jumped to the small of his waist as the right hand moved the opposite way, moving up and resting on his shoulder to hold him in place. It was some bastardized embrace, and Jacob held back some strangled attempt at a cough as he leaned in, unable to do much.</p><p>When he had been more naive, to have been held close would have made him happy, sent warmth through his stomach, and radiated through his limbs. Now, it just felt like an obligation more than anything. He closed his eyes as Roth spoke close to his ear.</p><p>“I’ve known the whole time. One of my associates saw you a few nights ago leave some posh black rental car from who knows where. Mind telling me where you happened to come into possession of such a wonderful little ride?”</p><p>“Just happened to stick my thumb out like they do on the telly. It’s pretty handy, actually works. You should try it sometime.” He mumbled before the grip on his waist tightened enough to caused him to inhale sharply.</p><p>“I’m not in the mood for games, Jacob. Who was it?”</p><p>“The fuck do you care for? Let me go and get out or I fucking call the cops.”</p><p>“Call the cops.” Roth pulled his face away just enough so his beady eyes danced in amusement at whatever was on Jacob’s face. “But where am I going to go? I own the flat. Well, most of it. That’s your chair, I think. And those records, granted. But you? And everything else? Darling, who am I?” He let go of Jacob and meandered around the room to point out the certain objects as he spoke, grazed his fingers on the tops of them.</p><p>Jacob didn’t deign to answer, fixing his best glare on Roth, crossing his arms and exuding pure steel despite the fact that he was nothing but pure jelly inside. It was a game that both of them knew too well, and one they had played with for years. The first few times, Roth had almost treated it as a game, one where he danced around until Jacob “decided” to let him into his arms and bed again. But it wasn’t a game anymore, this was just a fact of life. Jacob expected he’d see him in two days for another round. Roth examined him for a while longer, eyes skirting him up and down before he must have decided he had his fill.</p><p>“I need to take care of some stuff anyway. I just wanted to check on my favorite boy, make sure things were okay with you.” And just like that, it was like a switch was flipped, and the predator was more subdued as he all but flounced over and gently grabbed Jacob’s chin with his forefinger and thumb, bringing his face closer for a kiss. Jacob went, not willingly or unwillingly, but with the neutrality of a man who unconsciously decided to breathe or not. He made it good, he was sure of that, but not much else happened.</p><p>Eventually, Roth pulled away and patted Jacob’s cheek, as if he were pleased, and walked around him to go put on his shoes. Jacob listened to his steps and stayed silent all the while.</p><p>“I’ll see you in a few days, Jacob.”</p><p>“I’ll see you then.” Jacob nodded, still not looking, and kept his solitary pose until he heard the door click shut. No tears escaped, he wouldn’t do <b>that</b> , but he allowed his breath to shake a bit on the exhale and his shoulders to relax. God, he had just woke up and he was already so fucking <b>tired</b> , why was he always so <b>tired</b>-</p><p>Curiosity got the better of him and he couldn’t help but go to the window to see if Roth really left. He did, Jacob watched him get into a car and say something to a driver before it sped off. Only then did he truly allow himself to relax, bones losing their tension as he went over and sat in his ugly, little, stained chair.</p><p>He would have to make up a lie about Arno if Roth didn’t try and search up anything on his own. Jacob wasn’t sure if there had been any number aside from a plate, but if there had been-</p><p>Another pounding started up on the door because <b>of course</b>. Jacob tried to ignore it.</p><p>
  <em> He wouldn’t hurt him- </em>
</p><p>The pounding kept up.</p><p>
  <em> But he very well might. He has a territory thing- </em>
</p><p>“Will you just go? I’m not entertaining right now?!” Jacob called out to the door as someone knocked again. He was ready to take down the door if only it didn’t mean people could waltz in and out of his place. Honestly, maybe a fucking shower curtain would be more worth it. It was silent again until he heard the knock again, three gentle taps in a row, which was polite, granted. But no matter how polite it was, Jacob wouldn’t stand for it anymore as he got up with a frustrated groan and stomped over to the door.</p><p>“What part of ‘Leave me the fuck alone’ do you not fucking understand?! Are you some fucking-” He opened the door, once again uncaring of his state of undress this time -- fuck him, he was distressed, and it couldn’t be Roth -- and stopped short. “<b>Arno?</b>”</p><p>“Hi.” The man’s raised hand for knocking quickly opened into a somewhat sheepish wave, a smile following it of a similar nature. Jacob gaped.</p><p>“Arno?” He repeated, before once again, regretting everything and trying to close his door to hide most of his body and much of his living room. Arno didn’t stop him but didn’t look deterred either. </p><p>“Are you alright?”</p><p>“Am I- You found<b> my</b> flat, and you’re asking if <b>I’m</b> alright? How the bloody hell did you find my bloody building, never mind my number?”</p><p>Arno rubbed the back of his neck and averted his gaze. “When you… Mentioned your address. At my house. I overheard. And…”</p><p>“You heard and remembered.” His jaw dropped again. “You remembered my bloody address for half a week and hunted me down in the building.”</p><p>“I just asked your doorman, he… He vetted me. He has all my information. I left him my wallet in case something happens.”</p><p>“Fucking Freddie. You realize this is fucking creepy, right? You get that?”</p><p>“We’ve already established I don’t exactly have the best social graces.” Arno huffed, an embarrassed shade of red gracing his cheeks.</p><p>“At least you have the sense to look shamed.”</p><p>“Look, I just… wanted to see how you were, okay? You weren’t exactly in the best shape when you left the other day.”</p><p>“Arno, you have to stop this whole worrying thing over a one night stand.” Jacob tried to dismiss him, but his heart and stomach gave a funny flip at the thought of it. There the Frenchman went, being so earnest again, without any apparent concern for himself. It made something hard choke Jacob, something form in his throat when there was no fucking reason.</p><p>“I don’t normally take one night stands. I… I like longer relationships. Real ones. Maybe it’s stupid, and you might be… “raw.” But I just want to talk.”</p><p>“It’s not that simple, Arno. I wish it were, really. But we can’t- I can’t- This is stupid, you’re stupid, thinking you can just fucking barge into my building and my life, how dare you, I’m- I can call people, I’ll call-”</p><p>“Please.”</p><p>One syllable. Not much more than an utterance. But a plea to allow help. Jacob knew what he could do. He could shut the door. He could laugh in his face. He could call the cops. He could shout for people to come to witness the man harassing him and have them shame him away out the door.</p><p>But he couldn’t do that. Not to wonderfully, stupidly eager Arno.</p><p>“Wait out here while I get some fucking pants on. Then you can come in, and we’ll… talk.”</p><p>And wonderfully, stupidly eager Arno gave a less so sheepish and more genuine smile.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>These boys are gonna be the death of me. Same with however many 80s references I can fit into this series. We shall see. Title from Hard Habit to Break by Chicago.</p><p>I hope you enjoyed!! Come say hi and hang out on my <a href="https://straight-into-the-animus.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a>. I'm always accepting requests! Safety and peace!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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